


Mistletoe

by Suzann89x



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzann89x/pseuds/Suzann89x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has hung mistletoe during the Christmas season.  Being caught under it with a teacher would not be any problem if it were regular mistletoe, but this is Hogwarts, after all, and the decoration is anything but "normal mistletoe".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that actually formed in a dream I had, so I decided to write it out; I don't know how far the story will go, but I just adore the concept of enchanted mistletoe!
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT AND FOLLOW

“If Romilda tries to corner me under the mistletoe one. more. time.,” Harry hissed through gritted teeth, “I swear I’ll hex her.”

“Oh, come on, mate,” Ron said in an attempt to quell his friend’s frustrations, “She’s not entirely awful.”

Sitting on the bench beside Harry, joining the pair at the table, Hermione gave Harry a sympathetic look before rolling her eyes at the Weasley, “I really don’t think it’s Romilda herself, Ronald; you know that the mistletoe Hogwarts put up isn’t regular mistletoe; it’s Cantatis viscum album; it’s magical mistletoe and it will harass anyone who doesn’t kiss the person they stand under it with.”

Ron grumbled, “Yeah, I’ve heard, Hermione, but I doubt it’s true; I bet it’s just a rumor some wizard started for a laugh or to get a girl to lock lips with ‘im.”

Hermione couldn’t have asked for better timing for Neville to rush over in a frenzied state. As if on cue, a large sprig of leaves bearing nearly translucent bulbs and several golden bells appeared above Neville’s head and began to emit a horrifyingly loud, sickeningly spirited rendition of Jingle Bells, changing the lyrics,

 

 

_“Jingle Bells, Neville failed_  
_Failed to kiss the girl_  
_Luna Lovegood, Luna dear_  
_Your lips will meet, so don’t you fear”_

Ron and Harry gaped at Neville for a moment before Harry started, “Neville, wha –”  
His words were cut off though, as the mistletoe began another tune, this time rewriting Frosty The Snowman,

 

 

_“Neville the coward_  
_Is a scardey-cat for sure_  
_He didn’t kiss Luna on the lips_  
_‘Cuz he has no spine at all”_

“Wow, Neville,” Harry blinked, “What happened?”

Neville flushed even deeper red than he already was.  
The mistletoe jingled its bells with ardor, “Didn’t you just hear?” it replied to Harry, chuckling with amusement.

Neville bolted from the Great Hall as the mistletoe began an altered rendition of Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer. The Hall erupted in laughter.

Luna Lovegood, however, wasn’t the least bit rattled by the bauble of mistletoe that accompanied her everywhere, in fact, she would often sing along with its versions of Deck The Halls and Feliz Navidad. The only reason Neville hadn’t kissed Luna was that there had been a group of Slytherins leering nearby. He avoided Luna for the following two weeks, determined not to run into his crush in the halls; it was bad enough that he didn’t have the courage to ask Luna to the Yule Ball, but to be reminded of his insecurities on a daily basis would have been unbearable.

 

The night of the Yule Ball had arrived and all eyes were on the doors to the Great Hall, awaiting the arrival of the Triwizard contestants and their partners. The soft, tinkling music had faded to almost complete silence when the enormous doors opened. A confident Fleur Delacour entered first, with Roger Davies, looking as though he were baffled by the fact that the Veela-girl was holding onto his arm; they were followed by Cedric Diggory, grinning genially with a slightly uncomfortable-looking Cho Chang attached to his arm; Harry Potter entered, uncertainty and nausea in his expression, while his date, Parvati Patil, beamed and waved at the crowd as though she had just won Wizard’s Witch of the Year. The obligatory clapping and polite smiles were replaced with gasps and hushed whispers when Viktor Krum entered with Hermione Granger, who looked slightly terrified.

“Is that Hermione Granger,” Padma Patil asked Ron, “with…Victor Krum?”

Ron didn’t look at his date, but instead continued to glower at Hermione and the pumpkin-headed Durmstrang at her side, “No. Absolutely not.” He said it more to himself, attempting to force the reality to change, than to reply to Padma’s question.

As much as he didn’t want to watch the two of them gliding around the dance floor, Ron couldn’t help but stare at Hermione; her usual loose, frumpy school robes had been replaced with a soft pink dress that fit closely to her torso and revealed the delicious-looking skin of her cleavage. Ron had grown to be very protective, if not territorial over his friend, claiming it was merely him being concerned over her well-being, but it was more honestly attributed to the overwhelming hunger to have her. Watching the way her body moved in time with the music, sensually moving her hips in rhythm to the beats, Ron couldn’t decide where to look; her pelvis moved so seductively that he nearly grew hard by the sight, but the beads of perspiration slowly trailing down her neck and across her exposed flesh at the low neckline of the dress before disappearing into her cleavage was equally arousing. Ron was pulled into a fantasy in which he was removing the pink dress, tearing the fabric feverishly so he could feel her bare skin. ‘She would never give me what I want,’ Ron thought. He returned his eyes to the girl, his mouth watering at her movements. Ron watched her hungrily for a long while, his mind overwrought with images of Hermione’s nude body, wonderings about what sort of noises she made when pleased.

“Hot, isn’t it?” Hermione’s casual tone jerked Ron back to the present.

He frowned at the floor.

“Viktor’s gone to get drinks,” Hermione continued, “Would you care to join us?”

Glowering up at her, Ron snapped, “No, we’d not care to join you and Viktor.”

A brief disagreement was exchanged between the two before Hermione stormed off, apologizing to Viktor as she passed by him to leave the Hall. She walked slowly down the hallway, eyes brimming with tears of anger; Ron was such a prat! _‘How dare he? How dare he be so rude? How dare he ruin what was supposed to be a wonderful evening! How could he have spoiled the night? Why would he have to choose this night?_ ’ Hermione thought, fuming. This was the night she had been dreaming about since she was four; this was the night she was supposed to receive her first kiss! _‘Ron had ruined it! Ugh, that irritatingly stupid….’_ she couldn’t think of a word, _‘boy!’_

Hermione had walked through the hallways and ended up back near the Great Hall; she composed herself, just in case she ran into anyone in the hallway. She strode past the entrance to the Hall, determinedly not even glancing inside. Just past the doors where the celebration was being held, Hermione noticed the door to a classroom was open; she headed for the promise of solitude it would provide.  
Hermione had one foot inside the room when she heard her name, “Miss Granger,” Snape’s voice halted her mid-step; she froze on the threshold.

“Ye – Yes, sir?” Hermione replied.

“Explain yourself,” Snape stated as he approached her, “Why are you sneaking into classrooms?”

Hermione gulped, “I wasn’t sneaking.”

“Shouldn’t you be attending the Ball?” Snape’s question was a rhetorical accusation.

Shuffling her feet, Hermione sniffed, “I did. I think I’ve had all I can take of the festivities, though.”

Now only a few feet from his student, Snape could see that she was in, or recently had been in, an emotional state; he frowned, having an internal battle. Standing off to the side of the girl would give the impression she didn’t have to comply with his authority, as she did not have to look at him; he stepped to stand before her, facing Hermione on the threshold. Hermione kept her eyes lowered to her feet for several moments.

 

 

_‘Severus, the dark-haired wizard_  
_Can’t you see the girl is sad?_  
_Severus why don’t you kiss her  
__Just one kiss, it’s not so bad’  
_

“Fuck,” Snape cursed quietly.

Hermione lifted her eyes to him, “What?”  
The mistletoe sang again,

 

 

_‘O Severus, O Severus_  
_You know you really want to_  
_O Severus, O Severus_  
_Hermione, oh, can’t you see_  
_You want him to just kiss you_

_Hermione, Hermione_  
_It’s what you’ve been waiting for_  
_Hermione, Hermione,_  
_You know you want him al-also_  
  
_Just kiss her lips,_  
_But make it sweet_  
_For it’s her first_  
_So make it slow_  
_O Severus, O Severus’_

“Oh!” Hermione gave a quiet gasp.

Snape didn’t say anything.

“Are – Are those supposed to do that if it’s a st-student and a-a teacher?” Hermione stammered.

Snape remained silent, scrutinizing his pupil for several minutes. Hermione shuffled her feet again.

“Miss Granger,” the professor finally spoke, “Has no one ever kissed you?”

Blushing furiously, Hermione tried to hide her embarrassment as well as her curiosity as to why Snape had picked up on that, let alone questioned her about it; he seemed genuinely perplexed.

Hermione cleared her throat, “Ahem. Ah, no…yeah, no.”

Snape blinked but quieted again.

The student shifted awkwardly, “Pro – Professor, Professor Snape, it won’t bother me to have mistletoe sprigs follow me around until the end of the year.”

“Are you forgetting that the blessed things will tail me, as well?”

“Uh…yeah, I guess I was,” Hermione spoke quietly.

“I’m afraid I see no way around this, Miss Granger,” Snape said, “For what it’s worth, I do apologize.”  
Hermione steeled herself, knowing this was going to be extremely awkward, if not unbearable.

Snape took a step toward her; he very lightly placed his cool hand on the side of her face, looking into her brown eyes, “I will take that you’ve never been kissed into consideration, Hermione.”

Hermione, stunned as she was by his use of her first name, was in complete disbelief about how gently his hand was on her jawline; it was as though he was sincerely attempting to make her first kiss one she wouldn’t look back on with distaste.

“Pro – Professor – ”

Snape moved the thumb on his hand that held Hermione’s face to her mouth, “Shh.”

Feeling an odd tremor just below her bellybutton as his skin brushed over her bottom lip, Hermione fell silent immediately.

Hermione thought she saw a faint smile flicker across his face, softening his features, making her professor surprisingly attractive, just before the moment she knew she was supposed to close her eyes. Letting her eyelids flutter to a close as Snape’s lips barely connected with her own, Hermione found her brain to be entirely empty.  
Snape slowly, almost tediously, brought more of his mouth to Hermione’s, his hand remaining at the side of her face.

Unlike his hand was, his lips were warm against Hermione’s. Snape did not rush; he leisurely moved his lips over his student’s, taking his time, pleasantly surprised by the appeal of her mouth. Hermione placed her hand on the Potions teacher’s arm and unknowingly emitted a soft moan in her throat; she was astounded at how gentle, even caring, he was being. Snape struggled to keep himself from smiling against Hermione’s lips at her whine of pleasure. The hand at her face slid down to her neck, cradling it, as his other held her waist as he softly let his tongue enter her mouth. He felt her fingers holding the sleeve of his robes hesitantly attempting to pull him closer; Snape moved his hand to the back of Hermione’s head, gently but eagerly bringing her nearer, as his other slid over the silk of her dress from her waist to her hip. Snape gently scraped his teeth over her bottom lip, softly biting it. Suddenly, Hermione’s hand was clutching desperately at his sleeve while her other arm wrapped around Snape’s neck, pulling him closer. Her professor let his arm snake around Hermione’s waist, pulling her body against his shamelessly before he stepped into her, pushing her back against the wall. His tongue now brushing against and colliding with Hermione’s, her ample breasts pressed against his chest, Snape found himself in a compromising situation; this had begun as a simple participatory kiss, but he had to admit he was rather enjoying it. Realizing the impropriety of this, Snape pulled his mouth from his student’s, smoothing the front of his robes stiffly before he met her eyes.  
“Miss Granger,” he kept his voice low, “You should bear in mind that I am a professor, and you are my student; believe me when I say that, should you breathe a word of this to anyone, I have the ability to make the rest of your school career very…unpleasant. Do I make myself clear?”

“But, Snape, I – ”

“Professor Snape.”

“Right. Sorry, Professor,” Hermione swallowed nervously, the woodsy taste of Snape’s tongue still lingering in her mouth, “But, you…we just…you kissed me…”

“What did I just say to you, Granger? You are not to ever mention this to anyone. Do you think telling me I kissed you is not mentioning it?”

Hermione frowned, “No, but, not saying it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen…sir.”

“You are to act as though this encounter never occurred; you should attempt to erase it from your memory. Or must I Obliviate the entire evening?”

Attempting to control her frustration with her teacher, Hermione hissed through clenched teeth, “You can’t Obliviate anything from my memory; you are a professor and I am a student – they would fire you,” she crossed her arms, “In fact, sir, you wouldn’t be employed here to be able to make the rest of my school career Hell; if I told anyone, you’d be tossed out of the castle immediately.”

Snape took an intimidating step toward the girl, “Are you threatening me?”

She stared defiantly into his dark eyes, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am, sir.”

“You’ve just earned yourself a month’s detention, Granger.”

She was blindsided, “What? For what, exactly?”

“Insubordinance.”

“I was NOT being insubordinate, sir!”

He was now clenching his own teeth, “Make that two months; do not challenge me to add a third.”

Hermione gasped, “You can’t give me detention for two months!”

“It seems that I can, Miss Granger,” Snape spoke acidly, “And you’ve added a third.”

Glaring at her teacher, unable to believe he was being so blatantly power-drunk, Hermione kept her mouth shut.

“I have done you a favor, Miss Granger, you should be more appreciative.”

“OF WHAT?” Hermione demanded

Snape rolled his eyes, “I believe I prevented harassing enchanted mistletoe from following you for the rest of the year.”

“I’d rather have been stalked by the stupid things!”

Snape’s mouth tightened briefly at this comment; Hermione, although angry with him, immediately worried if she had hurt his feelings.

“…than have detention for three months,” she added in a barely audible whisper.

“For Merlin’s sake, if you’re going to speak, do so loudly enough to be heard.”

“I said,” she paused for several long moments.

Snape flexed his hands, “Yes, Miss Granger?”

She couldn’t look at him as she spoke, so she stared at the toes of her silver heels, “I said ‘than have detention’.”

Her teacher furrowed his brow.

Hermione sighed, flinging her arms up in exasperation, “I said I’d rather been followed by the ridiculous mistletoe than to have detention for three months.”  
She meekly looked up at him, “I didn’t mean rather than…” she trailed off, thinking about the feel of his mouth on her own.

Looking at her with a mixture of skepticism, horror, and pride, Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, “Have you lost your mind, girl? If that was, indeed, the first time you had been kissed, then it should not have been with a man twice your age. Women have…fantastical expectations regarding things of that nature.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione blinked back the sting of wet embarrassment rising in her eyes, “It was my first kiss. And any expectations I had, well, they were exceeded, sir.” She felt her face burn with the heat of a blush.

She had never seen her Potions teacher at a loss for words, but he was frozen, bewildered and confused, his brain obviously in a panicked search for how to reply.

Luckily, Hermione continued, “Although I didn’t count on getting reprimanded immediately following it.”

She thought she saw Snape’s mouth begin to twitch into a smile before he said, “You should return to your House. I expect to see you at 7:00pm for your detention.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Herm’onee, you lef real erly; whurd ya go?” Harry asked through a mouthful of pancakes the next morning.

Preoccupied by curiously surveying her Potions teacher seated at the head table, Hermione didn’t acknowledge Harry.

Ron shared a glance with his best friend, then snapped his fingers in front of Hermione’s face, “Wake up, Hermione!” 

“What?” she blinked, pulling her mind away from the futile attempt to decipher Snape’s behavior the prior evening, “Oh, yes, the waffles are quite delicious.”

Shoving a strip of bacon into his mouth, Harry shook his head, “Leave ‘er ‘lone, Ron – she’s probly just day’reamin ‘bout last night; firs’ kiss, righ’?”  He swallowed, “So? How’d it go, then?  He any good at snogging?” 

Blushing furiously, Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly and looked down at her eggs, “Yeah, actually…very good, actually.”

“’Course he is; he’s a Quiddictch master; there’s probably not much the bloke isn’t good at,” Ron said in an irritated, mocking tone.

“Wh – what?” 

Harry frowned at her, “Krum.  Remember, he’s Seeker for the Bulgarians?”

Hermione was flustered, “Oh. Right. Yes.”

Ron gave Hermione a very confused look, “Who’d you think he was talking about?”

Wringing her napkin in her hands, Hermione stuttered, “I knew he meant Viktor – my brain just isn’t working yet this morning, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

 

That evening, at 7:05, Hermione knocked once on the door to the Potions classroom; Snape flung open the door, “You’re late, Miss Granger.  Perhaps you were under the impression that it is acceptable to be late for detention. In.”

Following his brusque command, Hermione entered the classroom.

 “You’ll be extracting pus from flobberworms this evening.”

 

For two hours, Hermione squeezed the giant worms, squishing the thick, gloopy liquid into a large bucket, the slime coating them causing the mushy bodies to slide out of her hands repeatedly; she cast inquisitive glances Snape’s direction often, still not understanding his opposing demeanors.

 

“Miss Granger, you may leave,” he finally said at 9:30.

 She wiped her hands on her jeans and nodded, “I guess I should cast a slime-repellant charm on my pants from now on.”

“What a revolutionary idea, Granger,” Snape spoke sarcastically.

Hermione shot him a swift glare and headed toward the door.

Snape’s voice halted her mid-step, her hand on the door handle, “If you recall, you were late to this detention. Five minutes late, to be precise; what should I do to combat your insolence?”

Swallowing hard, Hermione couldn’t reply.

“I think, perhaps, you shall serve another week’s detention,” he spoke slowly.

Hermione flushed.

“For each minute,” he added.

She gasped, “But, sir, that would mean _five weeks!_ ”

 “Yes.” 

Hermione felt herself beginning to tear up, “Are you serious?” 

“Indeed, I am,” he replied, sounding bored, “You are dismissed.”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, as Hermione walked to her Potions lesson with Ron and Harry, Parvati ran, panicked, down the hall, “Oh my god, oh m god, oh my god!  I just got caught under a mistletoe with Moody!”

 

The three stared at her.

 “What happened?  You didn’t have to – ”

 “No, thank Merlin!  It didn’t even get out two lines of ‘Jingle Bells’ before he Petrified it!”

 “Well, at least he found a way around it,” Harry said.

 “And good thing you didn’t lose your head,” Ron chided.

 

Parvati joined the trio as they entered the dim classroom, “Do you think the mistletoe knows when it’s a student-teacher pairing?”

 “It’s got to,” Ron said as he set up his cauldron as the last few students wandered in, each looking relieved when they saw their professor wasn’t yet present, “I mean, just imagine: what if Harry or me got caught under it with McGonagall?”

Harry made a face then quickly shushed Ron as Snape entered the room.

 

The teacher flicked his wand, instructions for a brain-defogging potion appearing on the blackboard. 

The students gathered the supplies and set to work, Snape strolling down the aisles between the workstations.

 

“It’s absolutely bonkers!” Ron said to Harry, “Shouldn’t that be illegal or something?”

Hermione shuffled, uncomfortable with the topic, as Snape continued his patrol, nearing their table.

Harry made a face of disgust, “I know! I just can’t believe she got caught under the mistletoe with him!  I mean, he’s a _teacher_.”

Apparently overhearing this, Snape froze briefly before stepping up to their table, “Miss Granger, see me after class.” His voice was dangerous, rage buried just under his silky tone.

 Realizing quickly that Snape assumed Harry and Ron were talking about her encounter with the Potions teacher, Hermione stammered, “Oh.  No – I – I didn’t say – ”

“My statement was not a conversation starter,” he interrupted and walked away.

 

Harry looked across the table at her quizzically, but Ron was oblivious as he continued, “I mean, that's not something I'd wish on anyone! Blech!”

 “Oh, worse things could happen, Ronald,” Hermione sighed, casting a glance at her professor.

 “Not really,” her red-haired friend replied, “I mean, wouldn't you just want to die if you were to stand under it with a teacher?”

 She shrugged, “Well, that depends on which teacher,” Hermione’s eyes briefly flicked once again to Snape.

 “Oh, that's right,” Ron rolled his eyes, “You had a thing for Lockhart, didn't you?”

 Grumbling, Hermione shot him a glare as she spoke, “He was a ‘ _celebrity_ ‘.   And I was twelve!”

 

When the two-hour period ended, Ron and Harry gave Hermione sympathetic and confused looks as she remained behind.

 After all of the students had left the room, Snape continued to sit at his desk, scratching corrections onto students’ essays; Hermione cleared her throat.

Looking up from the dismal work, Snape said, “I am certain I instructed you to not speak of the…incident.

Shaking her head, Hermione explained, “You’re right, sir.  And I haven’t told anyone. Harry and Ron were talking about someone else.”

 “First disobeying and now lying? Your foolishness is reaching new levels, Granger,” Snape paused for a moment before sighing, “I suggest you leave before I double your punishment.”

 “Sir, I’m not lying; I really didn’t tell anyone!” she insisted.

 Snape spoke excruciatingly slowly, “I thought I told you not to lie.  Now get out.”

 Hermione let, frustrated.

* * *

 

After classes that evening, when Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room, she sat down on the plush couch with Harry.

 Fred and George Weasley, in their pursuit of owning and running a joke shop, had created, and we're now selling, ScratchPowder, an dust-like product that was very similar to Muggle itching powder that could be dissolved into drinks, with the added bonus of causing the entire body to itch. 

“Hermione, you look thirsty,” George winked at his twin, “Have a glass of butterbeer; we’ve been sneaking some in from the Three Broomsticks.”

His brother eagerly held out a bottle for her to take.

She accepted it, thanking the brothers, before she moved to a table and began working on an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione sipped the drink as she wrote the first row of parchment.

 

The itching started just as Ron entered the common room; she felt as though there was a layer of sand under her clothes. Groaning in frustration, Hermione yanked Ron’s wand out of his hand and used it to scratch between her shoulder blades before rubbing the rough wood on her calf, giving more relief than her nails could.

“What’s with you?” Ron asked.

Hermione made a pained face, “I just itch really badly.”

“Oh,” Ron nodded once.  Seeing the empty bottle beside his friend, Ron inquired, “Butterbeer? How’d you get that?”

“Fred and George gave it to me.”

 After thinking for a moment, Ron said hesitantly, “Uh, Hermione, I think you need to take a shower.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” Hermione shot him a look.

“No, no; what I mean is, the butterbeer had ScratchPowder in it.”

“What?  They wouldn’t!  They know I have to be in detention at seven!” she exclaimed; Fred and George rushed out of the common room guiltily.

 

It was already 6:30, so Hermione immediately abandoned the essay, jumping up from the table as Ron called behind her, “Don’t put those robes back on or you’ll just start itching again!”

 

She hurriedly showered, scrubbing herself twice, then, realizing that her insistence on doing her own laundry instead of having the house elves do it for her, panicked when she saw that the only items of clothing she had were overalls and a dress.  Hermione searched frantically for a shirt to wear under the overalls, but failed to locate one, so she resentfully pulled the dress on. She hated the royal blue dress; her mother had insisted she buy it, though, saying “a young woman needs to dress like a lady once in a while”, although Hermione didn’t really think the thin-strapped dress with a V-neck that revealed a bit of cleavage was very ladylike.

 

* * *

 

Not wanting to press her luck by being late again, she ran the whole way to the Potion’s classroom, but she was still two minutes late. She knocked on the door, heard Snape say “Enter”, and walked into the classroom.

 He looked up from his desk at the girl, and, seeing her clothing, raised an eyebrow, “Explain your attire.”

 Hermione frowned, but replied, “I know. I’m sorry; but it’s the only clean thing I had.  Fred and George got me with ScratchPowder.”

 “Excuse me _?_ ”

 Hermione briefly explained before Snape stood, narrowing his eyes as he approached her. “That color is very flattering,” he spoke rather quietly.

 Caught off guard, she stammered, “Wh-what?” She faltered before realizing it was a compliment, “Oh, right. Sorry.  Th-thank you.  The color is the only thing I like about it.  It’s not something I’d generally wear, though; it’s a bit too immodest for me.”

Snape watched her fidget awkwardly for a moment. “Yes,” he brought his fingertips to the front of her upper arm, “I can see how it could,” his fingers moved to Hermione’s collarbone, “awaken,” he paused, the tips of his fingers on the center dip of the bone, “desires.” 

Hermione didn’t even realize she had closed her eyes at his touch until his mouth was next to her ear, “Is it fear or pleasure that closes your eyes?”

Swallowing loudly, she slowly opened her eyes to see Snape with an arched eyebrow, Hermione spluttered, “O-oh…”

She noticed the way he was looking at her; heat, hunger, and fire melted with uncertainty, cautiousness, and apprehension, “What – what sort of desires?”

“I think, perhaps, our encounter during the Yule Ball has affected the both of us,” Snape said, his fingertips remaining on the delicate bone of her chest as he looked into her eyes.

 The student internally admonished herself for being so easy-to-read, but she bit her lower lip and nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Snape suddenly grabbed both of her upper arms roughly and shoved Hermione into the wall then growled, “You are infuriating.” He pressed his mouth to hers, roughly pushing his tongue between her lips, his hand moving to the side of her neck.

Startled, Hermione tensed briefly before being able to form a coherent thought.

The professor felt Hermione’s body relax into his assault of her mouth; he brought his other hand to the side of her neck, as well, lightly biting her bottom lip.  Her tongue began to participate, sliding against Snape’s, tasting the pleasant sandalwood of his mouth; Hermione once again felt a comfortable heat below her bellybutton.

She emitted a quiet whine in her throat when Snape’s mouth moved to her neck, the hand previously on her skin taking hold of her hip. Hermione tilted her head to grant him better access, her fingers grasping the shoulder of his cloak as she felt his tongue dancing over her flesh, causing the heat in her belly to spread between her legs.  She bit her lip, uncertain about the acceptability of this, but, at the same time, her professor was making her feel sensations she didn’t even know existed.  

 

Snape removed his mouth from her neck to look at Hermione’s face; he gave a faint, smug smile, “Enjoying yourself, are you?”

She nodded, her face filling with pink. 

“I shall stop whenever you request it of me,” he said quietly.

Hermione’s voice croaked, “I won’t.”

 

He returned his lips to Hermione’s neck, passionately kissing the sensitive skin; Snape was unable to believe how enticing she was.  He wanted nothing more than to have her skin against his lips, to feel her body pressed next to his. Snape lightly bit her neck, his hand lowering from her neck to her breast, realizing that, for the first time, he physically desired a student. 

 

Hermione whimpered as his teeth nibble her flesh while his hand cupped her breast; a dampness formed between her legs, “Professor.”

He lifted his eyes to hers, abandoning her neck, “I apologize.”

Hermione sighed, “Don’t apologize; I just… ”

“I see,” Snape said, feeling foolish. 

Seeing on his face that he felt rejected, Hermione shook her head, “No.  It’s just…I think that, if I don’t stop this now…well, I won’t be able to…because I don’t want to, even now.”

Snape’s face flickered with happiness before returning to passion, “Then don’t.”

 She swallowed, knowing that, deep down, she wanted her professor to continue his actions, “Okay,” she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

Snape ensnared Hermione’s mouth with his own, continuing his claim over her tongue.  His hand returned to her breast, palming her through the dress, the other remaining at her neck. 

 

Hermione, although her mind had struggled to focus before, was now entirely attune to the astoundingly pleasing feel of her professor’s soft tongue possessing her mouth.  She shifted, attempting to urge his mouth back to her neck.

 

After she moved, Snape very lightly nipped at her lower lip then brushed soft kisses down her jawline, trailing his mouth down, letting his mouth sensually caress the front of her neck.  Leaning her head back as he did this, Hermione noticed that the dampness between her legs had increased.  She whined in dismay when his mouth left her neck to look at her, but it became a whimper of pleasure when she felt his fingers playing at the low neckline of her dress as he just barely raised an eyebrow at her. When Hermione only gazed back into his dark eyes, not protesting, Snape slipped his hand into the dress, cupping and weighing her breast, now merely her bra separating their skin.

 

Hermione watched his expression; he bit his lip as he squeezed his eyes shut.

She took the opportunity of his eyes being closed to slide the strap of her dress off her shoulder. 

 

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” she repeated his earlier question to him.

 

As she had done, he opened his eyes at the words; the onyx orbs fell to the blue bra that was now exposed, “You are going to be the end of me.”

 

Hermione gave a subtle shake of her head before pressing her lips to his.  At this encouragement, Snape slid his hand under the bra, her hot skin finally in his hand. He tweaked her nipple gently, causing her to bite his lip and wrap her arms around his neck, tugging him closer to her.

Taking his chances, Snape slid the hand not in her bra from her neck, down her side, following the curve of her body, over her hip, and onto her thigh.  He slipped his hand under the hem of her dress, brushed his fingers up her bare skin and tentatively moved them between her legs; he could feel her arousal through her panties.  Hermione didn’t object to his hand, in fact, she moved slightly to part her legs; Snape pulled away from her mouth to suckle her neck.  She felt his fingers grazing over the skin just beside the hem of her panties; Hermione sighed. Moving the fabric over, Snape touched her wet flesh, causing her to take in a sharp breath. 

Hermione bit her lip, silently begging him not to stop drawing circles on her skin.  She quickly changed her mind, though, when she felt one of his fingers slide up inside her; Hermione whimpered.

 

Snape pushed a digit into his student, about to lose his mind; he had never felt anything like her before.

“Holy fuck,” he quietly said in reaction to her tight body around his finger.

 

He slipped a second finger into her, curling them to dance and press against the bundle of nerves he felt; Hermione moaned.

 

Removing his hand, Snape looked down at the girl, “You honestly are going to be the end of me.”

 

Hermione gazed at him, “Why do you say that?” she asked flirtatiously.

 

He  grasped her wrist, pulled her to him, his hand on the back of hers, and placed it on the hard bulge below his belt, “As I’ve said, you are infuriating.”

 

In response to this, Hermione let her hand linger against him as she took her turn to kiss his neck.  One hand sliding back into her bra, the other returning to the damp heat between her legs, Snape growled in his throat.

 

 He continued his appreciation of her body for several long minutes before he pulled back from her slightly, taking both her hands in his, “Follow me,” he said quietly, peeling her from the wall.

Snape walked backwards, pulling her along, moving to stand behind his desk.

Hermione gave a faint smirk as he slid her panties from her body and deftly lifted her just enough so she could sit on the desk.

 

She was surprised when he pulled his chair in front of her to sit, but gained understand when he pushed her dress up and lightly brushed his mouth over her inner thigh, parting her legs.

Snape softly kissed Hermione’s thigh, inching his mouth farther up her leg until he finally reached her core. His tongue flitted over her continuously  as she moaned; he nibbled her inner thigh, hungrily suckled her body, and slipped his hot tongue inside her. 

 

Once again, he retreated to quickly survey her expression; seeing Hermione's enjoyment in her eyes, Snape unbuckled his belt and released his large solid member.  She moved to touch him, but was halted by his fingers lacing through those on her outstretched hand, “No.  I need you immediately.”

 

His hand returning to feel Hermione’s wetness, Snape dragged his mouth along the scoop of her neck; Snape’s fingers brushed over her arousal once again before taking her hips in his hands, pulling her to the very edge of the desk.  His dark eyes swiftly took in his student’s expression.

 

“Please,” Hermione quietly requested.

 

His hands on her hips, just above her ass, Snape slid his endowment inside the girl; she gasped softly at the invasion of her body, feeling him push slowly into her.

 

Snape growled as he entered her further, Hermione’s breathing quickening and catching in her throat.   He brought his mouth back to her neck, slipped the other strap of her dress down, the material falling from her chest.  She slid her arms out of the straps as her teacher unclasped her bra, still moving within her. He peeled the undergarment from her body and grasped her breast, his other hand grazing over her skin to hold the small of her back.

 

“Oh my God,” Hermione sighed into Snape’s ear before hungrily kissing his neck. 

He moved with passion and need, thrusting himself inside her repeatedly as she devoured his neck.  The coil in his body was tightening; Snape placed his palm on Hermione’s now-bare stomach and gently pushed her from him to let his fingers rub over the sensitive bead between her legs; she leaned her head back with a guttural moan. 

 

Snape leaned into her to lie her back on his desk, delving deeper into her; he ravenously kissed the front of her neck.

 

Smirking before he brought his lips to the girl’s ear, he slyly husked, “Enjoying yourself, are you?”

 

She nodded, panting, “You have no idea…”

 

He felt her hand on the back of his head as she arched into his mouth and tensed.

Lifting his eyes to watch her, Snape’s voice was hoarse, “Then show me.”

 

That was it; those three sultry words and Hermione lost control.  She was overcome with wave after wave of indescribable ecstasy, spasming uncontrollably and violently trembling as a shriek escaped her lips.

 

Slowing his movements as the girl peaked beneath him, tightening around him, Snape watched her, entranced.

As she calmed, he resumed his pace, sliding in and out of her, his eyes now never straying from hers, even as the tight coil inside him quickly unraveled and he released his warmth inside his student.

 

Softly kissing her, Snape’s voice shook as he spoke against her lips, “That was…”

 

“Perfect,” Hermione finished his sentence.

She then realized she had probably just said something a man didn’t want to hear after just having taken a girl’s viginity; sex was generally thought of as being more emotionally significant to women, “I – um, sorry, uh…”

 

Snape looked down at her and interrupted, “I would have to agree."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Sorry, but I felt it needed to end here.


End file.
